Breaking the Rules
by DaVinci13
Summary: GS. Grissom's still ignoring his problems as his hearing becomes worse, and events from his past come back to haunt him. The team finds out and decides it's time to step in and help, forcing Grissom to break a few of his personal rules in the process.
1. Chapter 1: Rules

Disclaimer: The show CSI and anything related is not mine.

Chapter 1: Rules  
  
_ Gil Grissom, supervisor of the night shift at the Las Vegas crime lab, pulled up to the crime scene and nodded to Jim Brass, captain of the homicide division.  
"How's it going?" he asked, glancing at the building. The rest of his team – Nick Stokes, Sara Sidle, Catherine Willows, Warrick Brown, and even lab tech Greg Sanders, were already in the building processing the scene.  
Beside him, Brass grimaced. "Do you have to ask? Multiple homicides, pretty brutal." He shook his head. "This one's definitely going to take your whole team, even if it's just to collect all the damn evidence."  
Suddenly, the night was shattered by the sound of gunshots, coming from the house. "What the...!" Grissom took off running, fear coursing through him. He knew he should let Brass and his men handle it, but that was his team in there!  
"Sara!" he screamed, as he burst through the front door, gun drawn. "Catherine!" In the front hall, sprawled across the blood-soaked floor, was his team. Nick, Warrick, Sara, Catherine, and Greg all stared back at him with unseeing eyes, faces twisted in shock. They hadn't even known what had hit them. "No!" he screamed, but he couldn't hear his own voice. And then a man was walking down the stairs, gun trained on Grissom. Grissom recognized him vaguely, but his face was blurred slightly, so he was unsure. The man's lips were moving, but Grissom couldn't hear what he was saying. A terrible rage seemed to build in him, and an icy cold claw gripped his heart. It felt like his arm was weighted down as he brought his gun up slowly, his mind focused on killing the man in front of him.  
The man was blown backwards suddenly, and his body jerked five times as Grissom emptied his gun into him. "You son of a bitch," he screamed, blinded by the tears that were now coursing down his face. "You damn son of a bitch!" He was aware of hands grabbing him, holding him down, and he was screaming. Screaming because of the pain he felt, screaming because of the rage that was ripping him apart. And screaming because the words Brass spoke to him, trying to calm him, couldn't be heard. "The scene was supposed to be secured!" he yelled, the anguish in his voice heard by all at the scene as Brass pulled the struggling CSI out of the house. "It was supposed to be safe, damn it! You son of a bitch!" he screamed then, as he saw the officer who had supposedly secured the scene. "You damn son of a bitch! I'll kill you!" He lunged at the officer, striking out, feeling the overwhelming rage again, his face twisted in hatred and pain. "They're dead because of you!"  
"I'm sorry," the officer whispered painfully as Grissom suddenly sank weakly to the ground in front of him. But Grissom couldn't, and never would hear him.  
"They're not dead," he mumbled to himself as he let his head fall to his hands, "they can't be dead." But he couldn't even take comfort from his own lie, because he was deaf – and everything had been taken from him. His voice rose until it was once again an anguished scream. "No!"_  
  
"No!" Gil Grissom screamed as he lunged upwards from his bed, eyes wild, soaked in a cold sweat. For a moment the images flashed before him again, and he thought for a moment they were real – but then he saw the soft light of the evening sun shining through his blinds, and he released his breath in a trembling sigh. He groaned and let his sweaty face fall to his hands. He had been having nightmares for a while now – always the same two. In one, the one he had had today, his team would be dead, shot down in cold blood at a crime scene. In the other, he would relive the moment when his father returned home after two years, revenge on his mind. It was the most painful moment of his life, in more ways than one, and it terrified him as much as the other. The nightmare about his father had started soon after the other one, but Grissom could remember having it long ago as a child. One nightmare, a few times a week, he could handle. Two different ones, equally horrifying, every night, he couldn't. The strain was starting to show, and he knew his team was beginning to notice.

Sometimes, like today, he would wake up. Other times he would sleep through it and remember in the morning. Often he would have the same, or different dreams several times in a night. God, don't think about it, he thought desperately to himself. Don't think about it. He stood shakily, shivering as the air came in contact with his skin. He stumbled into his bathroom, suppressing the urge to throw up what little he had eaten earlier that day. He needed a shower. And then he would go to work early, to get his mind off of things.

Don't think about it. Just don't think about it. The words repeated themselves in his head as he showered and got dressed, and as he ate an early breakfast. That was his rule. If you didn't think about it, it would go away. Suddenly, the ringing of a phone broke through his thoughts, and he realized it was his cell.

"Grissom!" he snapped into it, irritated at the caller for no real reason. "Damn," came Nick's southern drawl. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the litter box." Grissom, immediately regretting his tone of voice, sighed and apologized. "Sorry, Nick," he said tiredly, "I had a... a late night." The lie came to him easily – too easily. He had been lying a lot lately. "Grissom, you should really consider sleeping more, you know," Nick said teasingly, "you're a pretty grumpy guy when you don't get enough."

"Thanks, Nick," Grissom replied sarcastically, feeling a strange relief at feeling the young man's voice. It banished all thoughts of his dream from his head, at least for the moment. "Anyways, me and the rest of the team were just wondering..." Nick's voice went quiet suddenly, and for a minute Grissom thought he had stopped talking. Then he realized – his hearing had faded out again. Damn, he swore to himself, and nearly panicked before he collected himself. "Listen, Nick," he said, unable to hear his own words, hoping Nick wouldn't hear any fear in his voice. "Listen, I've got to go." With that he pushed the end button. He realized then that his hand was trembling, and he shook his head. Don't think about it. But his golden rule was finally useless against something. He was going deaf, and no matter how long he pushed it away and refused to think about it, it was still going to happen. But not right now, he thought desperately, not right now. Just don't think about it. So he didn't, and as he drove to work he pushed it all out of his mind – the nightmare, the fears, and especially any thoughts of his hearing.  
  
When he arrived at work, he found the rest of his team already there, waiting for him in the break room. "What's up?" he asked, trying to lighten the tense mood that blanketed the room. Nick looked at him accusingly, and Grissom remembered the phone call. He had pushed it out of his mind, but now it came back to him as Nick spoke. "We could ask you the same thing! We went out for breakfast. We wanted you to come, why didn't you?" He paused for a minute. "You just cut me off in the middle of asking you, and hung up! What's with you, Grissom?" he asked, his voice angry. The rest of the team sat and watched their supervisor, unwilling to defend him. They all knew he was hiding something. Grissom felt incredibly guilty, and he refused to look any of them in the eye. "Nothing, Nick," he replied quietly, his voice emotionless, "I just couldn't come with you. I'm sorry." There wasn't another word spoken as he handed out the assignments.  
  
"Grissom!" Warrick Brown, level 3 CSI and one of Grissom's team, waved his hand in front of his supervisor's face. "Wake up!"  
Grissom jumped, and Warrick thought for a moment he saw a flash of worry in his boss's eyes. He shrugged it off, though, as the next second Grissom's face was once again the emotionless mask they all knew so well.  
"Sorry," Grissom said tiredly, "what was that? I was just thinking."  
"Whatever," Warrick muttered. He, and the rest of the team, had noticed that Grissom had been acting weird lately. Sometimes, when someone was speaking to him, he would seem to zone out halfway through the conversation. Other times, people were forced to call his name several times to get his attention. He had seemed to withdraw even more into himself, which was saying something for Grissom, and he seemed to stay away from his CSIs as much as possible. He would give them their assignments, and then retreat into his office to finish up paperwork. He was hiding, there was no other word for it, but Warrick had no idea what from. What had happened that morning was just proof to support his theory. Shaking himself, he glanced back at his boss, who was staring at him, eyebrow raised questioningly. "Catherine sent me to ask you if you were going to come with us after work to grab something to eat. She says if you don't, she'll personally drag you. She says you have to, to make up for being such an ass this morning when Nick phoned."  
For a moment there was silence, and then Grissom shook his head. "Listen, I'm sorry about what happened this morning. And I'm sorry, but I can't make it tonight either."  
Warrick thought Catherine had probably known that was going to be the answer. He sighed. "What are have you been doing that's so important, Gris? So important, mind you, that you can't even take an hour or so to have dinner with us. Racing cockroaches?"  
A flicker of a smile flashed across Grissom's face, and Warrick realized that it had been a long time since any of them had seen him smile.  
  
"Yeah," Grissom joked, "that sounds like a good excuse." Then he was serious. "Tell her I'm sorry I can't make it."  
"Whatever, man," Warrick shook his head and disappeared down the hall to the break room, where Catherine and Nick were they were working on the paperwork for the case they had just finished. He smiled to himself as he heard Catherine crow triumphantly, "done!" When Warrick entered the room they glanced up at him, Catherine with a question in her eyes. Warrick shook his head. "He's not coming, says to tell you he's sorry he can't make it."  
"And what's his excuse this time?" Catherine snapped angrily. She didn't like that Grissom had become so much more isolated than usual. She also didn't like how for the past few days he had been coming to work looking exhausted, and badly in need of a good sleep. Nick definitely wasn't wrong about Grissom needing sleep. Grissom was her best friend, but he didn't seem to understand that best friends helped each other through hard times. And there was no doubt something was going on in Grissom's life that was messing with his head. "Look, this is stupid," she said firmly, "why don't you guys find Sara and Greg and I'll meet you at the restaurant. I'll see if I can get Grissom to change his mind."  
Warrick shook his head. "I don't think you'll change his mind. He was really out of it when I walked in, I had to wave my hand in front of his face to get his attention."  
Nick frowned. "How many times did you call his name?"  
Warrick raised his eyebrow. "I don't know. Maybe three or four times before I got fed up."  
"Huh," Nick muttered. He glanced up at them. "The other day I had to call his name like, five times before he answered me. And then a couple of days ago he just ignored me. Something's going on with him."  
Catherine sighed. "Let's go, you guys grab Greg. He should be done by now."  
Greg met up with them halfway down the hall, hyper and ready for a night out. "So what's up, guys?" he asked, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. "Where we going tonight?"  
Warrick shook his head, his lips twitching in a smile. "Out, Greg, we're going out."  
"Ha, ha." Greg gave Warrick a look. "Sara said she had to ask Grissom something, so she'll be in his office." He glanced at them. "It's always easy to find Grissom these days. I wonder if he's ever going to leave his office again? Maybe he'll have a bathroom installed..."  
He let the rest of his sentence trail off at the glare Catherine sent his way. "Sorry," he squeaked, ducking behind Nick.  
"Well, you know something's wrong if Greg noticed the change," Catherine muttered as she stepped into Grissom's office. She stopped suddenly, seeing Grissom sitting at the back of the office with his tarantula in his hands. His back was to them. Sara glanced at them from where she stood by his desk, exasperation written all across her face. "I've been standing here for five minutes, talking to him, calling his name. He just ignores me. It's like he doesn't hear me..." she stopped at the look on Catherine's face. "What?"

It was like a door had opened in Catherine's brain, and realization suddenly dawned on her. For a moment the triumph shone on her face – she knew what was going on now – before it fell again as she realized what this meant for Grissom. The others stared at her, knowing she had figured something out. "What?" Greg asked anxiously, glancing at Grissom to see that he still hadn't moved. "He's going deaf," she whispered, afraid to say it out loud. "What?" Nick said, caught off balance. "He's not..."

"Damn it," Catherine muttered, angry with herself. "I should have realized sooner." She looked sadly at her friends. "His mother gave it to him - osteosclerosis. It's a hereditary..."

"We know what it is, Catherine," Warrick snapped angrily. He didn't know who he was angrier with – himself for not realizing, or Grissom for not trusting them enough to tell them. Sara looked as pissed as him and Catherine, and Greg and Nick just looked shocked. Catherine ran her fingers through her hair and stared hard at Grissom's back. "He was afraid we'd find out. That's why he started staying in his office, staying away from crime scenes, telling us he couldn't make our dinner dates." She glanced at Nick. "You said this morning on the phone, he sounded panicked right before he hung up. His hearing probably faded out." Catherine shook her head, and then moved up next to Sara. "Grissom!" Catherine yelled loudly. Grissom jumped as though he'd been burned. He hadn't realized that his hearing had gone. "Damn, Catherine," he growled as he put his spider back in its tank. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

"She wasn't sneaking," Sara snapped, finally finding her voice, "we've been here for a while. I've been standing here for five minutes calling your name. What the hell is wrong with you? We could have had a frickin' screaming match and you wouldn't have heard." She waited for him to admit it, to tell them what was going on, and share the terrible weight he must be carrying. He looked surprised at her outburst. From the look on her face he realized she was angry with him, and he managed to read her lips well enough to understand the general gist of her sentence. He could feel a migraine coming on, and he rubbed his forehead and sighed. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize anyone was talking to me," he said, relieved when his hearing returned suddenly, "I was thinking."

"Yeah, Grissom," Sara said icily, hating that he had just lied to her face, knowing then that he might never admit it to them. "You're always thinking these days, aren't you? You don't do much else." Catherine and Warrick stepped up, each putting a hand on her shoulder, and she fell silent. They all saw the brief look of hurt that flashed across Grissom's face. It didn't stay for long though – it never did. He would always replace it with a completely emotionless mask, and it would never be spoken of again. Catherine realized these moments were becoming more and more frequent, and she felt a twinge of guilt as she realized she had said similarly cutting things to him herself. "Grissom," she began, but he cut her off. "I'm sorry, Catherine, I told Warrick to tell you I couldn't make it to dinner tonight." He clenched his jaw as his hearing faded out once again, like a broken record, and his migraine became worse. He wanted to scream, or hit something. Scream the way he always did in his dream, because there was nothing else to do. "That's not what I'm here about, Gris," Catherine said softly. Moving forward, she sat in the chair that was at the front of his desk. The rest of the group hovered anxiously around the door, waiting to see what she would do.

Without standing up, she slid the chair across the floor slightly, so her mouth was hidden behind his coffee cup. Almost immediately he moved it so he could see her, and the group before him exchanged looks. Catherine shook her head, and a sad smile crossed her face before she laced her fingers together and put her elbows on the desk, so her hands blocked her face. "Why didn't you tell us, Grissom?" she said. Her voice was soft, but loud enough for the group at the door to hear what she had said. Grissom's jaw clenched, and he seemed to have trouble getting the words out. "Excuse me? I didn't hear that, Cath, you were mumbling." His voice was too soft, as though he was unable to judge how loud his words were. Nick looked away, embarrassed and sad for Grissom. Warrick and Sara looked angry, and Greg just stood staring at his boss, still trying to process what was happening. Catherine's voice had been clear, easy to hear. Catherine met Grissom's eyes, keeping her hands in front of her face. Her voice was a little bit louder. "Gil, did you really think you'd be able to push it away, like everything else you were scared of? Did you really think it would just go away if you didn't think about it?" Grissom had vaguely made out the words 'Grissom... push away... go away.' "Look Catherine," Grissom said, taking a wild guess, "I'm sorry if you guys think I've been pushing you away lately, but I'm not..." he paused, looking for the right words, uncomfortable under their accusing stares. He glanced at the clock. "Look, I have to go..." Sara cut him off. "You have no idea what Catherine just said, do you?" Grissom looked away, grabbing the file from his desk and standing. He realized then that he had screwed up, that he had guessed wrong, and he knew he had to get out of there fast. He ignored Sara's question. What would he say, anyways? 'No, of course not, I've been going deaf for a month and was too terrified to admit it to myself or anyone else?' He could just imagine how that conversation would go. "I'm sorry, guys, I have to go," he muttered, but Warrick blocked his way. "Where to, Grissom?" he said, voice hard. He was still hurting after learning that Grissom had shut them all out, and angry that he was still shutting them out. "Home? Where you'll put on some music and sit there, straining to hear it, to memorize it. So when you're completely deaf you might be able to remember just a little bit of what it was like, so you can keep pretending everything's fine?" Grissom, unable to read Warrick's lips at the speed he was talking, pushed past him, trying to hold himself together. "I'm sorry, Warrick, I have to go," he said, before leaving the office and practically running down the hall. Don't think about it, he told himself. Don't think about it... and definitely don't talk about it.

Catherine looked as though she was going to go after him, but then she changed her mind. "Listen, guys, I don't feel like dinner. I think I'm just going to go home."

"Cath!" Warrick protested, but she shook her head. "You guys go have dinner. Have fun, forget about Grissom for a while." They stood silently for a moment. None of them really felt like going to dinner anymore. Slowly, the small group wandered down the hall together. They all knew where they were going, but weren't exactly sure of what they would do when they got there.


	2. Chapter 2: You Can't Hide Forever

Chapter 2: You Can't Hide Forever  
  
It was seven o'clock in the morning when Catherine pulled up in front of Grissom's apartment building. She had never had any intention of returning home – Lindsey was being cared for, and right now Grissom needed her, even if he wouldn't admit it. Knocking, she waited for a minute to see if he would answer. "Grissom, come on, you can't hide forever," she called. When no one answered she frowned angrily, and tried the door. It was unlocked, and swung inwards to reveal Grissom sitting slumped on his sofa, head in his hands. An open bottle of migraine pills sat on the coffee table in front of him. "Grissom," she sighed. He didn't move. "Damn it," Catherine muttered as she locked the door behind her. Pulling off her jacket and tossing it onto the chair by the door she went and sat next to Grissom. For a moment he was still, and then he seemed to realize that she was sitting next to him, and he lunged to his feet in surprise. "Jesus, Catherine," he snapped, putting a hand to his head at the sudden wave of pain that ripped through his brain. "Just relax, Gris," she said quietly, grabbing his arm to steady him as he swayed dizzily. "Take it easy."

"Catherine, what the hell are you doing here?" he mumbled, feeling like he was going to pass out. "Taking care of you," she muttered in reply as she led him into his room and turned out the light. The fact that he followed without question told her how out of it he really was. "Lay down," she ordered, and he seemed to collapse onto the bed. "Cath," he mumbled, "I... Nothing's wrong, Cath," he whispered, but his voice had an almost pleading quality, as though he was begging her to reassure him. She shook her head, and then realized he wasn't looking at her, but rather staring at the ceiling with a dazed look in his eyes. She sat down on the bed beside him. "It's all right, Gris. Everything's all right," she assured him. The dazed look in his eyes was suddenly overshadowed by one of sadness and pain, and then he turned away from her. "Thanks, Cath," he said, but his voice was defeated as he drifted off to sleep. For a minute she sat there next to him, watching him sleep. His face was relaxed, and free of worry – he looked years younger, and Catherine thought about how much weight he carried, and took upon himself for his team's sake. His struggle to keep his life ordered and neat and free of complications was taking its toll on him, and she began to wonder how much longer he could keep this up. She knew his intense sense of privacy wasn't helping matters, and if only he would let someone in, he might be able to get through this in one piece. But, of course, Grissom never talked to anyone about his problems. He insisted on bottling it up and carrying it alone. She suspected it had become instinct for him to hide any feelings he might have – he thought he needed to set an example for his team on the need to keep personal lives separate from work. He didn't seem to realize that his apparent lack of emotion in certain situations was crushing his relationships with his colleagues. His fear of letting people see the real Gil Grissom and all his emotions was slowly but surely tearing him apart. "You're killing yourself, Gris," she whispered to him, running her hand lightly through his curly hair. "You're killing yourself and you don't even realize it." She stood then, and with one last long look at him, she left the room.  
  
Closing Grissom's bedroom door softly after her, Catherine rubbed a hand over her face tiredly and took up Grissom's abandoned position on the sofa. Picking up the bottle of pills before her, she put the lid back on and inspected the label. Strong stuff. But then, Grissom probably needed it right about now. She was pulled out of her thoughts by the persistent grumbling of her stomach demanding to be fed. With a sigh, she set the bottle of pills back down and set herself to making some breakfast in Grissom's small kitchen. It wasn't hard to find anything – he was extremely organized, and everything had its place. In one of his cupboards she found a loaf of bread and some peanut butter, and she had just sat down to eat when someone started pounding on the door.

"Grissom!" Sara's familiar voice called, "open up!" For a moment, there was silence, and then Catherine heard Nick. "Come on, Grissom, we know you're in there." More banging followed, and Catherine shook her head and stood, abandoning her sandwich. She didn't want to risk them waking up Grissom. "I'm coming," she called, annoyed. "Keep it down," she muttered as an afterthought, even though they couldn't hear her. She would have bet ten bucks that Warrick and Greg were there as well. She was proved right when she opened the door and came to face with her colleagues. She frowned at their shocked faces. "Come in," she snapped, "but keep it down, Grissom's sleeping."

"I thought you were going home," Greg accused, but her glare shut him up. "And leave Grissom to be picked over and abused by you four? I don't think so."

"We weren't..." Sara began to protest, and Nick responded with "Hey..." but Catherine cut them off. "You _were _coming here to force it out of him. Don't bother trying to convince me otherwise," she reprimanded, turning her back on them and going back to the table to finish her sandwich. "Well, that would seem to be the only way," Sara retorted. "And don't tell me you weren't here to do the same thing." Catherine raised her eyebrow at Sara, who stared back at her defiantly. The guys glanced at each other uneasily, feeling the tension in the room. For minute it looked as though Catherine was going to get angry, but then she relaxed. "I was. But then I realized he really doesn't need that right now. He just... He needs us to be there for him, even if he won't admit it." At her words, the tension seemed to dissipate from the room almost instantly, to be replaced by a sad, depressing weight. The only sound in the room was the soft rustling of clothes as the small group took seats around the table with Catherine, to wait for Grissom to wake. Catherine finished off her breakfast, and put the plate in the sink. Then, returning to her seat, she eased herself down into the uncomfortable silence that reigned. She didn't know how long they sat there like that, silently, waiting, before she realized how dumb this probably was. They couldn't just sit here until Grissom woke up – it could be hours before he did. "Listen, guys," she said tiredly, "I doubt Grissom is going to wake up anytime soon, so you might as well go home and get some sleep. We still have to work tonight." The group at the table exchanged looks. "And what are you going to do?" Sara asked. Catherine looked her in the eye, sensing the challenge in the words. "I'm going to sleep on the couch," she replied, voice emotionless. "I'd invite you all to share it with me, but I don't think you'd fit. Besides, I've become rather used to having it to myself."

"So, you stay over here quite a bit?" Greg asked innocently, a mischievous look in his eye. He should have known better to mess with Catherine, though. Her eyes sparkled with anger at his suggestion, and she looked like she could have snapped his neck in half. No one noticed that the look on Sara's face was as angry, if not more so. "Don't you even think it, Greg Sanders," Catherine said, voice cold. "Grissom and I are friends, nothing more." Then, her voice seemed to lighten, and her eyes lost their iciness. "You could say it's a love-hate relationship. Kind of like a sister and brother." A comfortable silence fell over them as they thought about that. Then Catherine's voice once again broke through the silence softly. "We take care of each other. When he's in the mood to actually let someone into his life."

"Yeah, we've noticed he doesn't do that too often, hey?" Warrick said lightly. Nick grinned, relieved that Catherine hadn't given Greg too much of a tongue-lashing. He didn't think they needed to be fighting amongst them selves right now. "Ain't that jus' the truth," he drawled, accent heavy. It had the desired effect as the group chuckled quietly together. "Whatever, cowboy," Sara said, grinning as she quickly covered up the anger she had felt before. Then she became serious. "Cath, I'm not leaving until I see Grissom. Seriously. I'll sleep on that big chair." She waved her arm vaguely in the direction of Grissom's living room. Nick pretended to glare at her. "Fine, I'll just have to take the floor." Catherine stared at them. "You can't..."

"They can, and they will," Warrick said, amused. "I guess I'm on the floor as well." They all turned to look at Greg, who shrugged. "Floor." Then he grinned. "I always did like sleepovers." Catherine sighed. "Fine. Sara, come help me the blankets and pillows and things."

"Thanks Cath, you're so kind," Warrick said sweetly. The grin was wiped off his face as Catherine cuffed him in the back of the head as she passed him. "Hey," he protested indignantly. "Watch it," Catherine responded, a smile pulling at her lips. Sara, shaking her head, followed Catherine into Grissom's room. In the darkness, she could just make out Grissom's form on the bed, and the only sound in the room was his soft, even breathing as he slept. She, like Catherine, realized how much more relaxed he looked in sleep, and how open his face was. Catherine noticed the way the younger woman was looking at Grissom, and she smiled. "You never really realize how much he carries until you see him like this, huh?" she said quietly. Sara turned to stare at her. "Yeah," she whispered. Then, awkwardly, she shrugged. "We should get those blankets." "Yeah," Catherine replied. She was just pulling them out of the closet when Grissom's breathing suddenly quickened. Surprised, the two both turned to look, to find him shaking his head, his face twisted in fear. "Grissom," Sara called, hoping to wake him.  
  
In the kitchen, Warrick heard the worry in Sara's voice as she called Grissom's name. "What the..." Standing, he made his way to the bedroom, feeling Nick and Greg behind him. At the doorway they paused, unwilling to intrude. They could see Grissom, tossing and turning on the bed with Sara and Catherine hovering over him, trying to wake him up. Grissom's voice, breathless and fearful, barely reached them where they stood. "No!" he mumbled, fists clenched, as he tried to break free from Catherine and Sara. "Come on, Gris," Sara begged, "wake up!" "No," he mumbled again, "they aren't dead. They can't be dead." His breathing was coming in gasps, and his whole body was trembling. "Secured the scene... supposed to be safe... Son of a bitch!"

"Grissom," Catherine called, shaking him. "No! No..." He twisted his head away from them, as though trying to rid his mind of some image. "Sara!" he cried then, his voice filled with pain and devastation. Suddenly he seemed to be released from his torment for his body relaxed, and he uttered one last, pleading "no," before his face softened again, and he slept deeply. Sara, shocked to hear her name, pulled back from his now still body. "Did he just..."

"Yeah," Catherine confirmed, "he did." But she was less worried about what he had said, and more so about the fact that he was having nightmares at all. Apparently there was more to his problems than his hearing loss. Making sure Grissom was resting peacefully again, she grabbed the blankets and pillows she had spilled on the floor and piled them into Sara's arms. "Take these out there, and get set up."  
"But..." Sara sputtered, but Catherine pushed her out of the room.  
"Go on," she said firmly. Grabbing the last couple of blankets and pillows herself she left the room right after Sara, and Warrick closed the door softly behind her.  
  
"That was..." Greg paused, looking for the right words. "I don't know what, exactly," he finished, noticing how surprised they all looked at the realization that Grissom was having nightmares.  
"I don't know what, either," Catherine murmured, feeling tears pricking the backs of her eyes. "I think he was talking about us... I think we were dead."  
Warrick nodded slowly. "It would make sense. I mean, who else would it be?"  
Nick was staring into space, and they almost didn't hear his voice. "I didn't think we would ever mean that much to him. I mean, what reason does he have to be so... worried about us that he's having nightmares about us dying? Major nightmares. We're his friends, sure, but most of the time he doesn't realize that. He's such a robot, all the time."  
Catherine sat up straight, her voice sharp. "Damn it, he's not a robot!" she snapped. "He has feelings, just like all of us. He gets scared, worried. He feels for the victims, all the time. As far as I'm concerned he feels more for the victims than any of us!"

"Catherine," Warrick said, soothingly, "Catherine, calm down. Nick didn't mean he is a robot; just that he acts like one all the time. He may very well feel a lot more emotion than any of us ever have, but it's hard to believe when all you see day after day is an emotionless mask. None of us have ever seen him actually display any emotion besides an occasional smile, or annoyed glance. You have to admit, sometimes it gets a little hard for us to believe that he has emotions beyond that."

Catherine sighed and relaxed. "All right, I know. I'm sorry. It's just... he takes so much on himself all the time. You don't even realize how much he feels, how much this job affects him." Sara, who hadn't spoken at all since they had left Grissom's room, met her eyes, understanding what she was trying to say even before she continued. "He hides his emotions so well... You're right, sometimes it seems like he is a robot, incapable of feeling. But he's like that because the amount he does feel, he thinks it would be inappropriate to show it. He thinks he needs to set an example for the rest of us. He doesn't realize what he's doing to himself – I don't think he wants to." She paused, and clenched her fist. "When I got here, he tried to hold himself together, pretend everything was all right, but he could barely stand. He only gets migraines like that when things are really bad. When I got him into his room he just... collapsed, on the bed. He was exhausted. I'd bet he hasn't slept properly in days." She met their eyes tiredly. "He's probably been having those nightmares for a while. You should have heard him. You should have seen the look in his eyes. He told me nothing was wrong, but it wasn't like he was telling me. It was like..." she struggled to find the right words, "it was like he was pleading with me, begging with me to tell him that it was true, that everything was all right." Sara glanced at her. "And is it?" "No," Catherine said bitterly, saying what they were all thinking. "Nothing is all right. It hasn't been for a long time."  
  
For a moment they were all silent. Then Greg glanced up. "It's his hearing... the fact that his hearing's going is why he's having these nightmares." He paused. "At least, if he really is dreaming about us dying. There's no other explanation." The rest of the group looked at him in confusion, and he sighed impatiently. "If we die, he loses us, right?" he asked, and the team nodded. "The way he thinks, and acts, I wouldn't be surprised if he's told himself that when he loses his hearing, he loses everything. His job, which is his life..."

"And us," Nick finished for him. "And that scares him. Because, like Catherine said, no matter what it seems like on the outside, he feels, just like us, and if you think about it, we're basically a little family. A family with a father who really doesn't know how to open up to anyone."

"And since when are you two psychiatrists?" Warrick asked sarcastically. He was rewarded with a friendly shove from Greg, and a hard punch to his shoulder from Nick. Catherine pursed her lips, and then stood suddenly and began arranging the blankets and pillows. The rest of the team sat and watched her, waiting. Finally, she spoke. "I don't know why he is the way he is – maybe it's just who he is, but it's got to stop. It's got to stop now. I can't watch him do this anymore." Placing a pillow at the head of the last little bed she had created on the floor, Catherine straightened up. "He's killing himself, slowly but surely, as they say. I think losing his hearing this way really brought it to a head. I think if it hadn't, we'd probably still be wandering along in a comfortable fog, ignoring the fact that the way Grissom acts really isn't all that good for him. Or this team, really."

Greg rose from his seat then, and stretched before he lay down on the blanket next to the couch and curled up. "You know," he muttered, "I read somewhere that a person who never lets any emotions show for a long time will most likely release all that stress and frustration in one go, if something triggers it." He closed his eyes. "That would be some explosion, if Grissom were triggered, don't you think?"  
The room was thick with tension for minute as they all thought that over, then Catherine sighed. "Go to sleep," she mumbled, trying to lighten the mood a bit. "It's already incredibly late."  
"Yes, mother," Warrick said cheekily, as he turned off the overhead light and lay down next to Nick and Greg on the floor.  
"Oh, shut up," Sara growled irritably from her chair, "will you just stop? There's only so much of that I can take."  
"What are you talking about?" Catherine asked indignantly, and Nick's voice broke through the darkness.  
"Do you really want to hear our answer to that question?" Sara, Nick and Greg all chuckled quietly at the remark. Warrick and Catherine could be heard grumbling to themselves as they slowly drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3: Unexplained Terror

Chapter 3: Unexplained Terror  
  
That evening they ate breakfast sitting around Grissom's kitchen table. It was made awkward by Grissom's lack of dishes, but they managed to get around it. When they were finished, Grissom still hadn't woken, and Catherine explained he usually slept late after a migraine.  
She sighed as she glanced at her watch. "I wish one of us could wait around until he wakes up, but we all really need to be there tonight, with Grissom out of it."  
"Look, Cath, we can each come and check up on him at different times, make sure he's all right," Warrick assured her. "He'll be fine."  
"I guess," she admitted. "It's not like he ever needs my attention afterwards anyway, he just pretends he's perfectly fine." They all helped put away the blankets and pillows used the night before. Each of them glanced at Grissom as they passed. His body was relaxed, and he was sleeping peacefully, oblivious to their presence, and their concern for him.  
  
They were just at the top of the stairs to his apartment when Sara sighed. "Damn it, I forgot my cell phone on the table. You guys keep going, I'll..." She was cut off as a crash resounded from Grissom's apartment, startling them all.  
"Grissom!" Sara cried, the first to regain her senses. She ran down the hall, unlocking his door with the spare key they had found in his apartment. "Grissom," she called out again, and the others echoed her words. They could hear him suddenly, choking and gagging.  
"Oh my god," Sara whispered as she stepped into his room, the team behind her. Grissom's bed was empty – the blankets and sheets were twisted, and had fallen to the floor. They were soaked in sweat. Beside the bed lay the lamp that used to sit on the bedside table. It was shattered, and there was blood on some of the pieces. The sound of it breaking had been what they had heard. Apparently he had staggered into the bathroom to throw up. "Grissom," Sara spoke softly, as she moved slowly into the lighted bathroom. She definitely didn't want to startle him. The others, behind her, seemed to realize what she was thinking for they were quiet, and followed her slowly. She couldn't keep the surprise off of her face as she saw him, slumped against the bathroom wall. His knees were pulled up, his arms and heading resting on them. From where they were standing they could see he was soaked in sweat. His right hand was a bloody mess, and his whole body was trembling violently. They could hear his breath coming in great gasps and sobs as his chest heaved.  
"Grissom?" Sara asked quietly, stepping forward. He didn't seem to hear. "Grissom," she repeated, a little louder, as she put a hand on his arm. His head jerked up, and for the first time in their lives they saw in his eyes the agony he felt, and the terror of what he had seen in his sleep. Reflected in their ice blue depths was all the pain he had ever felt in his life and never showed, an incredible terror, and the terrible exhaustion of carrying that burden. It was almost more than they could handle, and they all felt as though someone had jammed a knife in their guts. Grissom was supposed to be strong; he wasn't supposed to show this kind of emotion. It was only then that they realized how much they really did expect him to be emotionless. How much they depended on him to be calm and cool, and totally in control when cases took over their lives. The knife twisted cruelly as guilt washed over the group.  
Seeing them, Grissom pushed himself up, but his legs wouldn't hold him and he slid back down the wall. He tried to speak then, but instead he began to sob, his whole body shuddering as the tears rolled down his cheeks. He couldn't hold himself together anymore. Sara strode forward quickly, shaking off the feeling of guilt, and slid down the wall next to him. "It's all right, Gris," she whispered, pulling him into her arms, hugging his shaking body tightly. "Everything's going to be all right."  
  
Catherine, realizing that Grissom was in good hands, slowly backed out of the bathroom, pulling Warrick, Nick and Greg with her. Sara glanced up as Catherine turned to leave, and their eyes met. They understood each other.  
  
"Go," Catherine said, pushing the guys out into the living room. "I'll meet you at work. Make sure you tell the desk Grissom and Sara are taking a sick day."

"But, Cath," Nick protested, but she shook her head. "Go! I just need to clean up a few things here, and then I'll be there." She met their eyes. "Honestly," she assured them. "Come on," they complained but they left, finally. Catherine let out her breath, and strode back into the bedroom. Quickly and efficiently, she stripped the bed and threw everything into the laundry basket, and then made it up again. Carefully, she picked up all the shattered fragments of the lamp and threw them out. That done, her attention turned to Grissom and Sara. They were still sitting on the floor in the bathroom. Grissom's head rested on Sara's shoulder, his eyes closed, his face pale. Sara had managed to pull a clean washcloth off of the rack above them, and had pressed it to his hand to stop the bleeding. The sweat had dried on his body, and he shivered, though not violently enough to wake him from his exhausted sleep. Catherine crouched down beside them, smiling slightly as she watched Sara run her fingers lightly through Grissom's hair as she whispered quietly to him. "It's all right, Gris, everything's going to be all right."

"Here," Catherine said softly, wrapping the blanket she had brought around Grissom's shivering body, making sure it covered Sara as well. Sara was startled; she hadn't realized that Catherine was in the small room. She blushed, realizing that Catherine must have been watching her with Grissom. "I just..."

Catherine cut her off, smiling. "It's all right, Sara. He needs you right now. Maybe he always did." Sara sighed. "Not that you could tell." She let her head fall forward, so her lips rested against Grissom's hair. "No," Catherine agreed, grinning even wider at the sight, "Not that you could tell." Standing up, she opened the medicine cabinet above the sink and pulled out some bandages and antiseptic. Taking the cloth from Sara, she got it wet and gently washed Grissom's hand. She was just putting on the antiseptic when he seemed to jerk awake, pulling his hand from her grasp. "What..." he muttered, eyes looking dazed. Sara tightened her hold on him. "It's all right, Gris, it's all right," she whispered. The words were all the assurance he needed, and he drifted off again.

Catherine regained her gentle yet firm grip on his hand and finished cleaning and bandaging it. The cut wasn't deep enough to need stitches, but it worried Catherine just the same. Sara had managed to stop the bleeding quickly and that reassured her just a bit. When she had finished, she put the things away and crouched back down next to Sara and Grissom. Sara's cheek rested against Grissom's hair, and Catherine couldn't help but smile. Then she became mock serious. "You're my friend, Sara," she said softly, "but he was my best friend first, so you better watch yourself. If you hurt him, I'll make your life a living hell." Sara looked up, shocked at the words. Then she saw the amusement in Catherine's eyes. She smiled, aware that while it was a joke, there was probably a bit of truth in it as well. "I promise, I'll take good care of him." Catherine glanced at her watch, and then at Grissom. She double-checked the bandage, and then stood. "Well, I have to go," she murmured. "There's food in the fridge, and you can call me if you need anything. I'll see you two later."

"Hey, Cath?" Sara asked hesitantly as Catherine turned to leave. When the older woman stopped, waiting, Sara gave her a small smile. "Thanks." Catherine smiled in return. "Anytime."  
  
Sara didn't know how long she sat there, Grissom's head on her shoulder, his sleeping body in her arms. As long as she was with Grissom, though, she was happy. It was crazy that she still felt this way about him, even after all the times he had pushed her away. But, there was just something about him. She couldn't help it, and she knew no matter how many times he rejected her, she would still be there for him. Because she thought Catherine was probably right, and he needed her more than he knew.

Suddenly, she felt him stiffen against her. His face was twisted in fear, and he muttered something that she couldn't quite make out as he struggled against her hold. "It's all right, Grissom," she whispered, holding him tightly, "I'm right here, everything's all right." Gently, she touched his face. "I'm right here, Gris." He seemed to find her touch reassuring. His body relaxed again, and his face became free of fear. Sara looked down at him sadly as she tucked the blanket more firmly under his chin. She hated the fact that everything wasn't all right, despite what she kept telling Grissom, who so desperately needed to believe her. In the space of a day and a night, it seemed, Grissom had completely fallen apart. She had never seen him so vulnerable, and it scared her a little bit. Never before had she considered the possibility that Grissom could feel that kind of pain. None of them had, really, despite the evidence that had been there on so many occasions. With a sigh, she lay her cheek against his hair again, and gently gripped his hand. "I'm sorry, Gris," she whispered as a tear trickled down her cheek into his hair, "I'm so sorry."  
  
It seemed to be hours later when Grissom finally stirred, his eyes flickering. Sara sensed that he was waking up almost immediately, and she gently touched his face as he lifted his head from her shoulder. "Hey," she whispered, noting that he definitely looked better than he had earlier. "Hey," he muttered in reply, and she winced. His voice was hoarse, and he sounded as though he'd been strangled. Grissom didn't seem to notice though, and he let his head fall back to her shoulder. It told Sara that he was still hurting – he never would have done that otherwise.

For a moment they stayed that way in silence. He was painfully aware of Sara's arms around him, and while it made him feel nervous it also made him feel secure at the same time. Sara broke the silence, and she regretted it the minute she did. "Do you want to tell me about it?" Almost immediately, his body stiffened, and he pulled away from her. The blanket slipped off his shoulder, and her arm fell to her side. "No," he said abruptly. He stood then, and Sara stood with him, angry with herself for ruining the moment. "Listen, Gris," she began, but he cut her off. "I said no, Sara," he said, and she could hear the unease in his voice. "All right," she replied, "all right." She sighed, and he looked away from her. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he grimaced. He looked terrible. Suddenly, he saw Sara reflected in the mirror, standing behind him. Her lips were moving, but no sound was coming out. "Sorry, Sara," he said, cutting her off, the lie again coming easily to him. "I didn't catch that. Listen, I need to get changed and take a shower. Can you..." he trailed off, studying her in the mirror, hoping she would understand. Hoping she would keep her answer simple. "Sure." Her lips formed the words reluctantly, and then she turned and left the bathroom. When he had spoken, Grissom's voice had been too loud, as though he hadn't been able to judge for himself – just as he had been too quiet the other night in the office. She knew his hearing had faded out again, but she didn't want to press him on it. Yet.  
She was just looking through the fridge, trying to find something to eat, when she felt her pager vibrating on her hip. Checking it, she saw that it was Catherine. Grabbing her cell from where it still sat on the table, she speed-dialed and smiled when Catherine answered immediately.  
"What's up?" she asked as she continued to search for something quick and easy for Grissom to eat.  
"Not much," Catherine replied, "just a couple of bodies, and a B&E. Nick was thrilled about that one." She paused, and Sara knew immediately what she wanted.  
"Grissom's fine," she reassured the older woman. "At least, I hope so. He woke up a few minutes ago, and he seemed fine until I asked him if he wanted to talk about it. Then he just clammed up. But then, I guess we probably already knew he'd do that."  
"Yeah," Catherine murmured absently. "Where are you now?"  
"I'm in the kitchen, trying to find something that's quick to make so Grissom can have something to eat. He's having a shower and changing his clothes at the moment. His hearing faded out again. He didn't even say anything about it."  
Catherine sighed. "I know he's probably going to be difficult, but just... try to get him to talk. Find out what the hell happened last night, though I expect it had something to do with his nightmares. He needs to talk, and frankly I think you're the best one for the job."  
"All right," Sara replied, seeing Grissom come out of his room in a clean pair of black pants, and a plain black shirt. "Listen, I have to go, I'll talk to you later, all right?"  
"Sure. I take it Grissom just showed up?"  
"Yep."  
"Well, see you. I'll come over when I get off shift. The guys will probably tag along, so I intend to sit us all down and get this over with once and for all. Even if it kills Grissom."  
Sara would have smiled if she hadn't felt so nervous about this whole Grissom thing. "Ok, I'll see you then. Bye." She pushed end, and turned to look at Grissom, who was staring into space. "Gris?" she prompted gently.  
He jumped. "Huh?" He looked slightly confused.  
"It's all right, Gris. I just wanted to make sure you're all right."  
"I'm fine." His answer was short and to the point, and Sara let it go at that.  
She leaned down again to take another look in the fridge. "Anything in particular you want to eat?" she asked.  
"I don't know," he said vaguely, his mind obviously elsewhere. "Anything, I guess."  
Sara repressed a sigh of irritation. "How does toast sound?" she asked, trying hard to make it seem like everything was perfectly normal.  
"Uh, fine, I guess."  
"All right, I'll make it. Why don't you go into the living room and watch some TV or something while I fix it?"  
"Sure," he replied meekly. It worried her, that he was so out of it. She knew it couldn't be because he was tired – he had slept for hours. Shaking off the feeling, she set about making his breakfast. Well, lunch, really, she thought to herself.  
In the living room, she heard Grissom turn on the TV and start surfing the channels. At least he would be occupied with something other than thoughts of the night before.  
  
After eating, Grissom turned his attention completely to the TV, and Sara realized he was trying to discourage her from asking questions.  
"Grissom..." she began, but when he didn't even turn to look at her, she let it go. She was suddenly afraid – afraid of pushing him to hard, afraid of being the one to cause him pain. God knew he had caused her enough pain; still, no matter how often she had been angry with Grissom, or hurt because of him, she couldn't bring herself to say anything. She knew Catherine had told her to try to talk with him, but all she wanted at the moment was to make sure Grissom was happy. So she let it go and they sat silently, side by side, watching the screen in front of them.  
Sara was just glancing at the clock a few hours later, wondering where the rest of the team was, when her cell phone rang. "Sidle," she answered.  
Catherine's voice came over the line. "Listen, Sara," she said, sounding apologetic, "I'm really sorry but do you think you and Grissom could come in? We just got a new case. It's really big – multiple homicides, pretty brutal. Brass told me this one's definitely going to take the whole team, even if it's just to collect all the damn evidence. Do you think he's up to it?"  
"Um..." Sara glanced at Grissom. "You up to going to a scene?" she asked him, and he nodded, eyes still fixed on the TV screen. "Sure, Cath," Sara relayed Grissom's answer, "we'll be right there." She frowned suddenly, realizing something. "Wait, shouldn't it be days shift's case though?"  
She heard Catherine sigh before replying. "Yeah, technically, but Mobley kind of wants Grissom on it. He said I could say no, but the look in his eye was really kind of creepy. I didn't want to go there."  
Sara grinned at the thought. "All right, we'll meet you at the lab first. I need to grab my kit." Catherine agreed, and they both hung up.  
Grissom, noting she was done, stood, and went to get his coat. "What's the case? Why are we taking it?" he asked, the first words he had spoken for hours.  
"Mobley apparently asked Catherine if we wanted it – he said he could give it to day shift if she wanted – but the she says the look in his eyes told her it really wasn't open for discussion. Multiple homicides, pretty brutal. And I quote Brass, 'this one's definitely going to take the whole team, even if it's just to collect all the damn evidence.'" She stopped suddenly as the colour drained from Grissom's face.  
"What?" he asked. The words seemed to repeat themselves over and over in his head. "They can't be dead..." he murmured, the pain and fear in his eyes unmistakable. Sara was shocked to realize those were the exact words he had said during his nightmare. _They can't be dead.  
_ "Grissom?" she asked, worried at the frantic look on his face.  
"Call Catherine," he snapped, hands trembling, "tell her not to go! Tell her to tell Mobley to give it to the day shift."  
"Grissom, what?"  
"Just do it, damn it!" He was pleading with her now.  
She shook her head. "Not until you tell me why. What's going on?"  
"Damn it, Sara!" His whole body was shaking, and she thought for a moment he would collapse, but he stayed on his feet as he staggered towards her.  
"Gris, what are you... Grissom, damn it, stop it!"  
He had snatched the cell phone from her hand and was dialing Catherine's number, squinting as he tried to make out the numbers through the pain in his head. When Sara tried to grab the phone from him, he grabbed her wrists in his free hand and held her away from him. "Don't," he gasped, eyes haunted.


	4. Chapter 4: Confrontation and Confession

Chapter 4: Confrontation and Confession  
  
At the crime lab, Warrick, Nick, and Greg looked up as Catherine's cell rang. "Willows," she answered it.  
"Catherine!" Grissom's breathless voice ripped through her, and she suddenly had the awful feeling that something bad had happened. He sounded terrified.  
"Grissom!" she cried, and the three sitting before her stared at her. "Grissom, what's wrong? Where's Sara?"  
He ignored her questions. "Tell Mobley you're not doing the case, tell him to give it to day shift."  
"Grissom..."  
"Just do it, Catherine," he snapped, a tinge of panic edging into his voice. "I'm your supervisor, you have to do as I say."  
"Why, Grissom?" she asked, trying to calm him. He was obviously in no shape to be giving orders. "What is it?"  
"I said just do it, damn it!" Then his voice was quiet, pleading, begging with her to listen. "Please! Oh god, please just do it. You have to do it." She realized then that he was sobbing again, and she immediately wondered what Sara was doing at the other end.  
There was really only one thing for Catherine to do, herself. "All right," she said soothingly, "all right. Everything's going to be all right. I'll tell Mobley, and we'll be right over. Just hold on, Gil, we're coming." For a few more seconds she could hear him sobbing as he tried to say something, and then the phone was turned off.  
"What is it?" Nick asked, a worried look in his eyes. "Are they all right?"  
"I don't know. Grissom told me not to take the case. He sounded terrified. He couldn't even talk at the end; he was sobbing."  
The three men stared at her. "What... why?"  
Catherine shook her head as she dialed Mobley's number. "I don't know, but I want to get over there fast and find out."  
  
For the second time that night, Grissom sat curled in Sara's arms, sobbing, his face buried in her shoulder. Sara sat there simply holding him, wondering what had caused it, wishing she had just done as he said and called Catherine herself.  
"Shh, Gris," she soothed as she rubbed his back, "shh, everything's going to be all right. It'll be all right." Finally, he managed to stop crying, but instead of getting up as Sara had expected he stayed where he was with his face pressed into her shoulder. His breath was still coming in shuddering gasps, but he was in control of himself for the most part. They were still sitting that way when there was the sound of a key being turned in the lock. Grissom heard it, and he immediately pulled away from Sara and leaned forwards so his elbows rested on his knees. "Grissom," she began, but she was interrupted as the door was pushed open and Catherine rushed in, the guys right behind her.  
"Grissom!" Catherine cried. He barely acknowledged her, his eyes flicking to the four standing in the doorway for only a second before they returned to the floor. Sara shrugged at her friends, and then turned to Grissom as the group took seats. Nick sat down on the other side of Grissom, and Catherine, Warrick and Greg pulled up chairs from the kitchen.  
"Grissom," Sara said softly, touching his face. He pulled away from her, still silent, and she let out her breath in irritation. "Grissom, stop it." The group waited, expecting him to say something – anything – but his lips remained sealed, his eyes cast downwards. Suddenly, they all saw that his hands were trembling violently, even though he had clenched them into fists in front of him. "What happened, Grissom?" Sara tried again, and this time, his eyes flicked to her face for a moment. Their icy blue depths were unguarded for that second, and she saw how much this was scaring and hurting him.  
"Grissom..." Warrick's voice broke through the silence then, and Grissom shook his head, as though trying to make them go away.  
"Don't," he said, voice broken. "I can't."  
"Sure you can," Nick said, leaning forward so he could see Grissom's face. Grissom promptly turned away. "Come on, Gris, you need to get it out. Everyone's scared of something; you can't hide from it." Grissom's jaw muscle twitched, telling them that he was hearing them. if not believing them.   
"Grissom, you were terrified when you called me," Catherine pointed out, "there had to be a reason you were so worked up about that crime scene. And I think I deserve to know, because I nearly got my ass bitten off when I told Mobley I'd changed my mind."  
"Doesn't matter," Grissom mumbled, sensing how frustrated they were getting.  
"Grissom, if it freaked you out that much, it obviously did matter," Warrick murmured. "You don't get that worked up over little things, Grissom. In fact, you never get worked up, period."  
"I'm having a bad week." Grissom knew they wouldn't buy that in a million years, but he was stalling.  
"Wait..." Sara's spoke then. "Was it something I said?" Her four teammates all looked at her. Grissom looked up in alarm, and Sara had her answer.  
"What did you say?" Greg asked, realizing what Sara was doing.  
"Well, I..."  
"Don't," Grissom said, voice strained and tired. "Just leave it."  
"I can't, Gris," she whispered sadly. She glanced at the group surrounding them. "I can't remember exactly, but I know he asked what the case was. I repeated...."  
"Sara!" Grissom was pleading with her, but she ignored him resolutely.  
"I repeated what you told me, Catherine. Multiple homicides, pretty brutal, and then I repeated what Brass told you, about us needing the whole team just to collect all the damn evidence..." she trailed off suddenly, as she turned to look at Grissom. His hands were shaking even worse than before, and his face was pale. Her voice became soft. "And then Grissom said, 'they can't be dead.' Just like he did last night when he was having the nightmare."

That got Grissom's attention. His head snapped up, and the look of horror in his eyes terrified them. He hadn't even realized what he had said to Sara earlier, and he had no idea that he had called out in his sleep while they were still in the house. "You didn't..." he gasped, "I didn't say..." He couldn't finish. Images were flashing through his mind – images of his team, sprawled dead on the floor in front of him, in a growing pool of their own blood. He heard the gunshots clearly; saw the man fall under his gun. "No," he mumbled, pressing a hand to his head as the shots echoed and ricocheted around his brain, and five pairs of dead eyes stared back at him from the floor. He could vaguely hear voices, calling him, hands trying to hold him, but he jerked away. "No!" he screamed, trying to get away from those eyes, those sightless eyes that filled him with pain and rage. "No!" And then, suddenly, a sharp voice called his name, and the hands became arms wrapped tightly around him. Sara, he thought, Sara's got me, everything's all right if Sara's got me. He focused on her voice, as she whispered to him, and the feel of her arms around him, and slowly, the eyes and the bodies disappeared, and the gunshots were quieted. He was safe as long as Sara had him.  
  
Slowly, Grissom's trembling body stilled, but his eyes remained tightly closed. The team had been stunned at his reaction to the words. Nothing they had done had seemed to calm him, until Sara finally took him in her arms and held him, and whispered to him softly until he was still. "He'll be all right," she assured the team quietly as she stroked his hair, "it'll just be minute."

None of them were surprised at how she had handled it, or him. They had seen the connection more clearly than her or Grissom; that was for sure. Now, as they stood off to the side, watching Sara run her fingers through his hair and kiss his forehead gently, they were just relieved that she was still able to care enough for him to help him when he so obviously needed her. From where they were they couldn't hear what Sara was saying, but obviously it was the right thing, because Grissom began to talk, his voice soft. They all had to move in closely to hear him. "I'm going deaf," he whispered, and his voice shook. He offered no explanation as to why, or how – he was aware that they had figured it out for themselves – but he felt the need to tell them still. He needed to say it out loud, and have them hear it. "I haven't been ignoring you I just... I just don't hear you. I was scared. I'm sorry, if I've hurt you. Any of you." He stopped then, taking a breath. "I..."

"You're exhausted, Grissom," Catherine said softly, pushing a little. "You haven't had enough sleep for the past week."

"Nightmares." It took a lot of effort for him to say it. He didn't want to think about it. "Two. One I haven't had since I was a kid... it started right after the other one. Sometimes I get them two or three times a night, if I force myself to go to bed. They just started a few weeks ago..."

"This has been going on for weeks?" The shock in Sara's voice was obvious. He shuddered as he thought of those weeks. "Yeah," he murmured. "Weeks. Nights were short, days were long; God, they were long. I stayed awake so many times, afraid to close my eyes. But I always drifted off in the end, and I always woke up screaming." He felt Sara's arms tighten around him protectively, and he let himself lean into her strength. "I'm breaking rules all over the place," he whispered, closing his eyes again.

"Rules, Grissom?" Warrick asked, slightly confused. Grissom took a shuddering breath. "My rules. The ones I set a long, long time ago, to keep my life ordered and neat, and empty of anything that couldn't be understood. My big one – don't think about anything that threatens that. Cause if you don't think about it, it'll go away." The group exchanged glances. What would posses Grissom to force himself to live like that? "It worked. Since I was seven years old, it worked, until a few months ago. Then my great, golden rule to an uncomplicated life stopped working." His hands were trembling, and he clenched them to stop it, as he gritted his teeth. "Just because you don't think about it doesn't mean you'll miraculously be cured, and hear again. And then a few weeks ago – just because I didn't think about the nightmares during the day, and ignored them, didn't mean they wouldn't come back again, night after night, week after week. Now that I actually think about it..." He laughed bitterly at the words. "Now that I actually think about it, I can't believe it's worked for all these years... last night, when you... when you found me in the bathroom. That was the worst one, ever. Mostly, they're both the same every time they happen. Except for that one. It was different... worse." His eyes reflected his pain as he thought about it. "That one... it's always at a crime scene," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper, "and you're already there. Even Greg. Brass is outside – you're already collecting evidence. I... I ask him how he's doing, and he always says, 'do you have to ask? Multiple homicides, pretty brutal. This one's definitely going to take your whole team, even if it's just to collect all the damn evidence.'" The group exchanged looks, remembering that Brass had spoken those exact words to Catherine not more than twenty minutes ago. Grissom continued. "And then I hear these gunshots, coming from the house, and I start running. I always think to myself, you should let Brass handle it, but I can't, because it's my team in there. My responsibility, and the only people I've ever allowed into my life for as long as I can remember. But I never get there in time..." His voice broke as he recalled the dream, and relived it through his telling. Tears rolled down his cheeks. "God, everyone's dead, and you... you're eyes are open, and you look so scared. In a pool of your own blood, all together. And then some guy's coming down the stairs, his gun pointed at me. I always think I recognize him from somewhere, but I can't make out his face too well. He's talking, but I can't hear him, and I know he killed you... all I want is to make him pay for it. So I do." At this statement, his hands seemed to stop trembling, and his eyes became distant, as though he were somewhere else even as he talked. His voice was strangely soft, and even though tears still trickled down his face, he seemed to be unaware of them. "I empty my gun into him, and then Brass is there, trying to hold me down, and calm me down, but all I can hear are the gunshots, over and over again. And then I'm screaming, and fighting him. All I want to do is kill someone. Mostly the officer who was supposed to clear the scene. I don't kill him, but it definitely isn't for lack of trying. By then I can't move, and my legs give out and I'm falling. And then I wake up. The other night... The other night was so different." He snapped back to the present then, his eyes haunted and tormented. The tears had returned with new force, and he was suddenly sobbing again. "You... you're bodies... the bodies were ripped apart, and he had written a message in your... in the blood. 'How do you like your birthday present, Gil?' And then the guy is coming down the stairs, and for the first time his face is clear, and I know exactly who he is. I know exactly why he wrote what he did, even though somehow I know it's nowhere near my birthday. And I woke up. I could still see it, even after I woke up. I tried to turn on the lamp, but I was shaking so much... I knocked it off the table, and cut myself. There was so much blood... so much blood... had to be dead... so much blood..." his voice trailed off, and once again he was lost in his own world.

For a moment a stunned silence filled the room. Then Catherine broke out of her stupor, and gently pulled Grissom's face towards her. The dazed look in his eyes was so similar to the one he had worn when she had first showed up at his apartment. "Cath," he mumbled, and Catherine gently ran her hand over his face. She wanted to cry, but she couldn't because Grissom needed her. He needed them all. "Grissom," she whispered. "Grissom, who was the man?" For now, she thought to herself, we're going to treat this like it could actually happen. Nick, Warrick and Greg were silent. They didn't really know what to say. Obviously the authenticity of the dream had terrified Grissom, and that in itself scared them. They were pretty sure it was safe to say that Grissom had never gotten so upset over anything in his life.

Grissom's dazed eyes stared straight through Warrick, who peered over Catherine's shoulder. "My dad. It was always my dad. Only that was the first time I really knew."

"What?" Sara whispered harshly, her grip involuntarily tightening on his hand. He didn't seem to notice. "The present..." Grissom mumbled, recalling his childhood. "My dad left when I was five..." Grissom laughed bitterly to himself. "I was just the opposite of most kids. I blamed my mom for his leaving. I thought he left because she went deaf. I was so sure it was her fault - I refused to learn sign language. But then he came back, two years later. I heard him talking to mom in the living room... even though she was deaf, she could speak and read lips... he wanted her to leave with him. He had never wanted me. I was one big mistake. God, that hurt. I hated myself. It was my fault he'd left, and I'd blamed it all on my mother, and made sure she knew it. She started yelling at him, screaming for him to get out of her house. She said she didn't know how he could be so 'heartless,' as she put it. She was so angry, because he'd left us..." His voice trailed off, but the team had grown used to it. He was doing it a lot as he spoke - losing himself in memories he hadn't thought of in years. "She said she didn't really care that he'd left her, but he'd left me, and that was what made her mad. He'd never written... never sent a present on my birthday. She was furious. He was furious. Started going on about getting me for stealing his wife. She tried to stop him, but he just pushed her out of the way and told her to let him deal with me." Grissom's voice became very soft then, and they could hear the exhaustion in it. A tear rolled down his cheek slowly, but there was really nothing left in him to cry. "I tried to run, but he grabbed me around the neck and hauled me back. Broke my ribs... shattered my leg, and an arm, and broke my collarbone... broke my jaw, and my hip. I had a concussion. I don't even really remember exactly what happened, but mom came into the room with the baseball bat she'd given me for my birthday the year before, and started hitting him with it and screaming. He hated me so much... but he still loved her. She was the only one he ever really loved... And even after I made sure she knew how much I hated her for two years, she still loved me. That's the other dream. The one I haven't had in years... I just... I just relive that over and over again..."

"What happened to your dad?" Greg's question was soft, hesitant. He wasn't entirely sure of himself. He almost felt as though he shouldn't be asking Grissom to tell him anything. His fears were banished as Grissom met his eyes. "He ran. Nobody heard from him again. I stayed in the hospital for weeks. Councilors came to talk about it with me... for the most part they talked, and I pretended to listen. They thought they understood, but they didn't. They never could. They all left me alone after a while. And I finally discovered if I didn't think about it, and pretended it didn't happen, it didn't hurt. Only the nightmares were there, and those could be ignored just as easily when I woke up. It always worked..." They could see how hard he was fighting to stay awake, despite all the sleep he'd had in the past hours. "The dream..." he mumbled sleepily, looking a little ashamed of himself, "I panicked. It just... it scared me. It's just a coincidence. I'm sorry I freaked out like that..." He let sleep claim him then and his body relaxed against Sara. The group surrounding him let out their breath. None of them had realized they had been holding it.  
Catherine stood then and began pacing, running her hands through her hair. The look on her face was half worry, half anger. She stopped suddenly when she realized everyone except the sleeping Grissom was staring at her. She sighed. "I just... I never knew."

"None of us did, Cath. We had no way of knowing," Warrick said soothingly. "You know he never talks about the important things." Sighing again, Catherine knelt down next to Grissom and gently touched his cheek. "Everything's going to be all right, Gris," she told him softly, more to reassure herself than anyone. "Everything's going to be fine." He sighed in his sleep then, and turned his face into Sara's shoulder. The guys and Catherine grinned, and Sara smiled shyly. The feeling of fear and uncertainty that had enveloped the room before was now gone.  
  
For a while they all sprawled on the floor around Grissom and Sara, talking quietly. Then, Catherine finally stood, her hunger getting the better of her. As though he sensed that Catherine had left a hole in the little circle surrounding him, Grissom stirred restlessly in his sleep, and Sara ran a hand over her face, whispering quietly to him until he was still again. "I don't know about you guys," Catherine said quietly as Nick's own grumbling stomach interrupted the silence, "but I could sure use some food. As soon as we get Grissom into his own bed, I'll see what I can make from what he's got in his kitchen. Nick, Warrick, you think you can get him up?"

"Sure, Cath," Nick and Warrick replied in unison. Reluctantly, Sara let them pull the sleeping Grissom from her arms. "Be careful," she snapped quietly at them as Grissom stirred again, and his eyes flickered open.  
"Relax, Sara," Warrick hissed back good-naturedly as he supported the still half-asleep Grissom. "We're being careful."  
"You don't have to..." Grissom's voice was slurred as he managed to get his feet under him.  
"Take it easy, Gris," Nick said soothingly, "we've got you. You're fine." Getting him into his room, they set him down gently on his bed, and Sara pulled the covers up over him.  
They were just about to leave, when Grissom suddenly reached out and caught Sara's hand in his own. He was struggling to stay awake. "Sara," he mumbled, and she turned to look at him.  
"What is it, Grissom?" she asked quietly, gripping his hand gently, so as not to disturb the bandage.  
"Can you..." he looked away from her, suddenly shy. "Can you stay...? I mean, just until... until I'm asleep."  
Sara wanted to grin at his words, but she forced herself to just smile calmly at him. "Yeah," she whispered, sitting down on the edge of the bed and gently brushing her free hand through his hair. "Yeah, I'll stay as long as you need me."  
"Thanks," he murmured, as he finally let himself go.  
"You're welcome," Sara whispered in reply, eyes shining. She ignored the group behind her as they chuckled quietly to themselves.  
"We'll save you something to eat, Sar," Nick said, patting her on the back. "When you're sure he's settled, come on out, and bring the pillows and stuff, all right?"  
"Sure Nick, whatever," she said absently, her gaze fixed on Grissom. "Just give me a minute."  
  
TBC...


	5. Chapter 5: Old Habits Die Hard

A/N: The song is 'Coulda Woulda Shoulda,' by Celine Dion  
  
Chapter 5: Old Habits Die Hard  
  
A few hours later, Sara awoke to Grissom's strangled cries. Careful not to disturb any of the others, she rushed to his room. Her heart sank as she caught sight of him thrashing around on the bed, his face once again a mask of terror. She had hoped he would be all right once he had gotten it all out, and told them about it.  
"Oh God, Grissom, please wake up. Come on, Gris..." Somehow, she managed to get her arms around him and stop him from tossing and turning. "Come on, Grissom," she whispered, tightening her grip as he fought her, "please, just let it go!" He seemed to sense her presence suddenly as he slowly relaxed, and his cries were stilled.  
"Sara..." he mumbled quietly as she hugged him, and she smiled as he turned his head towards her in his sleep.  
"I'm right here, Gris, I'm right here. I've got you."  
  
That evening, when Grissom woke, he was alone. For a moment he lay still, allowing himself an extra minute in the comfort and warmth of his bed. It had been a long time since he had felt so relaxed and well rested.  
  
Suddenly, the events of the previous night came rushing back to him. "Damn," he moaned as he rubbed his temples, remembering also that he had asked Sara to stay with him. Somehow, though, he really didn't feel as upset as he thought he should. The nightmares had come back to him, when he slept, but they had been pushed away by a voice, and a feeling of safety... Grissom knew instinctively that it had been Sara who had saved him.  
  
Unwilling to go out and confront his team just yet, Grissom stalled as long as he could. His shower was longer than usual, and he took his time getting dressed. He didn't know what he was going to say to his team, and frankly he wouldn't have minded if they never spoke about this week again. But, knowing Catherine, he also wouldn't be surprised if she forced him to continue to talk about it and discuss it with the team until every detail had been picked over, and all his thoughts and feelings were group property.

Finally, he realized he couldn't stall any longer, and he pulled on a plain black shirt – one of a collection of black shirts that he had taken five minutes to choose – and walked out into the kitchen. Finding both it and the living room empty, Grissom let out his breath with a whoosh. He hadn't realized he'd been holding it. Somehow, he felt relieved that his team had already left for work – he wasn't ready to discuss things yet – but he also felt a small twinge of disappointment. He almost wished someone was there with him, and it surprised him. It had been a long time since he'd felt lonely. Normally, his mind would be occupied with thoughts of work, or the latest of his crossword puzzles.  
  
Pushing those thoughts out of his head, Grissom began rummaging through the fridge for something to quiet his grumbling stomach. "Oh, for crying out loud," he muttered as he realized that his team had eaten all his food, and forgotten to restock.  
  
He was just contemplating calling Catherine and giving her hell when suddenly, he heard someone call his name. "Grissom!" It was Sara, sounding surprised, and clutching four bags of groceries to her chest. He hadn't heard her let herself in.

"Sara," he said, confused, "What are you..." He stopped and shook his head. "Never mind, don't answer that." It would be just like Catherine to leave him a babysitter. He tried to ignore the relief he felt that it was Sara who was staying with him, and not one of the others.

"I'm really sorry, Gris," Sara apologized, "I would have been there when you woke up, but I thought you'd be out for a while yet. I thought I'd have time to run out and grab a few things." Grissom shook his head again, and took two of the bags from her. "It's all right, Sara," he reassured her, "nothing important happened. Everything's fine." Sara looked at him closely. "Is it? Really?" Her voice was soft, and he could hear the concern in it. He opened his mouth to say "yes," but he stopped himself quickly. Am I really all right? he asked himself, and he found he was unsure of the answer. Abruptly, he turned away from Sara and began putting away the groceries. Sara stood silently, patiently watching and waiting.

Finally, Grissom stopped and leaned his hands on the counter. His back was to Sara, and she could see how tense he was. "I don't know," he said softly. "I just... I just don't know." He sighed, and rubbed a hand over his face. "I mean should I be all right? I don't even know how I should feel about this anymore. Nick and Warrick and Catherine and Greg... they'll look at me differently now... act differently around me. They'll expect me to be different." He whirled around suddenly to find Sara right behind him. "I..."

Sara shook her head, hiding her elation at the fact that he hadn't said her name along with the others'. "Stop worrying, Grissom," she said gently, sensing his frustration and uncertainty. "You need to stop worrying so much. You're still our friend, and our boss." He smiled slightly at that, and Sara sighed with relief inwardly. "We don't think any less of you because of last night. In fact, we probably appreciate who you really are more." Hesitantly, she touched his cheek. "Honestly," she whispered. For a moment, she thought he would pull away, but then he turned his face into her hand and closed his eyes.

"Everything's gotten so complicated," he whispered. Sara shook her head and gently brushed a stray lock of his curly hair back into place. "It's only as complicated as you make it, Grissom." They stayed that way for a while, both content to be near each other without speaking. Finally, reluctantly, Sara ran her hand through his hair once more, and then pulled away. "We should get these groceries put away, and get you something to eat," she murmured. "I guess," Grissom replied as he took up where he had left off earlier. "We probably should."  
  
Later, they were just sitting down for breakfast – Grissom's first and Sara's second – when Grissom's phone rang. He reached out and grabbed it before Sara could, and smirked at her as he answered. "Grissom."

"Grissom?" Catherine sounded as surprised as Sara had earlier when she found Grissom in the kitchen. "I didn't think you'd be up yet." Grissom scowled. "That's what Sara said, too," he said irritably, ignoring Sara's pointedly questioning look. There was silence for a moment, and Grissom had a feeling he knew exactly what Catherine was going to ask next. He had to repress a sigh as he was proved right. "How are you doing?"

"I'm all right, Catherine," he replied, a little bit surprised when he realized he was – at least for the moment. "I'm fine." There was another moment of silence, and Grissom figured Catherine was probably trying to decide whether she believed him or not. Apparently she did, because he could hear the relief in her voice as she finally spoke. "I'm glad you finally..." The rest of the sentence was lost on him as his hearing suddenly faded out. For a second he sat completely still, having trouble processing what had just happened. He had almost completely forgotten about his hearing. "Cath," he finally whispered, and then fell silent. He didn't know what to say – he knew he couldn't lie anymore. Sara, suddenly realizing what was wrong, gently took the phone from him. He watched her lips move as she spoke to Catherine, and he pretended he could hear her voice.  
  
Minutes later, Sara was just saying goodbye to Catherine when Grissom's hearing returned to him. "Is it back?" Sara asked, seeing the look on his face. He nodded. She sighed as she sat back down, and watched as he pushed his store bought waffle around his plate. "You need to eat that you know Gris," she commented softly. He shrugged, and followed her directions with little enthusiasm. So much for being all right, he thought bitterly. You're still going deaf.  
Realizing he wasn't in the mood to talk, Sara began to eat her own breakfast, keeping one eye on Grissom as she did so.  
  
When they were both finished, Sara took their plates and put them in the sink before following Grissom into the living room, where he had slumped down on the sofa.  
"What?" he snapped irritably as she sat next to him and sighed. He immediately regretted it as he saw the look of hurt that flashed across her face. It was his turn to sigh. Why did he always have to ruin it when things were going so good? "Sara, I'm sorry," he apologized.  
"It's all right, Gris," Sara brushed his apology off, giving him a small smile that didn't really hide how much he had hurt her with just that little comment. "You've been through a lot lately."  
Grissom had to force down an angry reply to her words. He knew that had nothing to do with it. He was just avoiding the facts, and hurting Sara in the process. He couldn't believe that she was still willing to stay here with him after all the times he'd hurt her. He also couldn't believe he was still uncertain about what to do concerning his feelings for her. It would be easy for most people – you loved someone, and they loved you, so you did something about it. You talked to them, and worked things out. But that was when things got complicated. Don't think about it, he told himself automatically, and immediately cringed inwardly.  
"Old habits die hard," he mumbled to himself.  
"What?" Sara asked, but he shook his head.  
"Nothing."  
The look on her face told him she didn't believe him, but she let it go at that for the moment. "Catherine wants us all to go out when they're finished shift. I don't know where exactly yet, we're supposed to meet them at the lab later. She wants to discuss options for your hearing. She said something about a surgery that could work."  
"And nobody thought to ask me?" Grissom muttered, and Sara's eyes flashed. She was not going to let him push her around anymore.  
"Grissom, you need to talk to us," she snapped, "You need to talk to us, and hear what we have to say."  
Grissom glared at her. "I told you everything there is to tell last night, what more do you want?"  
"I know, Grissom," the look in Sara's eyes softened, but only a little bit. Her voice had a tinge of sarcasm in it. "You told us a lot last night, and I know that was definitely against your nature, but now you have to continue to do that. You need to get your feelings out, and let us help you deal with them. As we've all seen, you aren't exactly the best person for dealing with emotions."  
"Wait a minute," Grissom's voice was disbelieving and angry. "You all just expect me to let you butt in on my life and tell me how to live?"  
"Yeah, that's basically it," Sara said just as angrily, realizing it was going to take a lot to get her point across to him. "And if you don't like that, too bad. You screwed up big time, Grissom, and the team doesn't – _I_ don't - want to see your life continue its downward spiral until you hit rock bottom for real. We aren't just your colleagues, you know, we do care about you."  
"My life was fine before you all decided to get involved," Grissom snapped, angry that after all these years he was losing his control at the worst possible moment. "And I can deal with my emotions just fine!"  
"No, Grissom," Sara said, glad she was getting some feeling out of him, "your life wasn't fine, and you know it. And your emotions – you don't deal with them, you push them away. You can't do that, ever, because sooner or later it's going to blow up in your face. As you now know."  
Instead of throwing an angry reply in her face, Grissom stood abruptly and walked out the door, body tense and hands trembling. Sara let him go, sensing he needed time to compose himself. She desperately wanted to follow him, and tell him she was sorry and that they should just forget it had ever happened, but she couldn't. He needed to realize what he was doing to himself, and she knew it was time for her to back off and give him some space. She knew he'd be back in time to meet the team. It was the one thing she was sure of – no matter how often he pushed her away, she'd return. And no matter how often he tried to make himself run away, in the end he'd always drift back and find her again. The only problem being, whenever he drifted back to her, he would only come so close before shying off again. And it was all because of that damn connection that they both felt – that he was trying so hard to deny. With a small sigh, she turned on the TV and settled in to wait.  
  
Grissom was halfway down the street before he realized he had no idea where he was going, and that he'd forgotten his jacket, and his keys. He was good and pissed though, and he wasn't about to go running back to the apartment with his tail between his legs just because he'd forgotten his damn jacket.  
  
He knew he had no real reason to be pissed at anyone but himself. Sara was right – he'd screwed up, and now he was paying. He didn't know why he kept defending himself. He knew as well as anyone else that his position was indefensible. It was like trying to fight a war against an advancing army ten times the size of yours, and you in the middle of a flat plain with no protection on front, back, or either side. Hopeless. Shaking his head, he slowed his pace as he calmed down.

Finally, he wandered into a small park a few blocks from his apartment and sat down on the swings. There was no one around – duh, he thought to himself irritably, it's midnight – and the soft breeze that moved through the trees made him shiver in his short-sleeved shirt.

From where he was sitting, he could just make out the neon lights of the strip, and he smiled faintly as the far off sound of sirens broke through the silence. There was always something going on...  
Suddenly, he felt a sharp longing to be back at work, with his team and a challenging murder to investigate. At least it would take his mind off things. Trying to hide again, Gil? he asked himself silently. He was. Of course he was – that was all he did these days. Hide from himself – hide from his team. He was never honest with himself, or anyone else for that matter. If he was honest, he'd lose the control he'd worked so hard to keep – and he'd have to admit how he felt about Sara. The way he felt when he was around her was different from anything he'd ever experienced before, and the unknown was always a risk. A risk he dealt with like everything else – by pushing it away. The only problem was it wouldn't just go away. Sara hung around, always waiting, wanting something from him that he was terrified to give. Something he didn't know how to give – or even explain.  
Some things, he thought as he pushed himself slowly on the swing, just can't be put into words.  
  
Back at the apartment, Sara glanced at the clock for the second time in five minutes. Where was he? It had been a long time since Grissom had left, and she was beginning to get worried despite her resolution to give him his space.  
  
It was hours later when a thoroughly chilled Grissom finally forced himself to return home. He had cooled down, literally and figuratively, and he had to talk to Sara. She was right, and as much as he hated the thought of letting anyone invade his privacy, he knew he had to talk to someone.  
Rubbing his arms to keep warm as he walked, he paused at the door of his apartment to listen as the sound of a song that was playing softly over the speakers caught his ear.  
  
_Did you ever fall in love at the right time or place  
Does it always have to move at its own kind of pace  
When you're driving on cruise control c__oming off a bumpy ride a__nd your heart is back in shape t__hen it hits you with no chance to hide  
  
But don't you miss out on the way, don't find a reason to say  
  
Coulda woulda shoulda, but I didn't do that, you gotta give it a shot dare to believe and don't say you c__oulda woulda shoulda  
But I didn't do that, just throw in everything you've got  
'Cause in love there's no holding back  
  
You tell me that you play it safe cause you're afraid  
To hurt your neck  
On that rollercoaster trip  
Never knowing what you'd get  
But do you wanna be cynical  
On a date with destiny  
Giving up the greatest rush  
Who knows what it turns out to be  
Don't you miss out on the way  
Don't find a reason to say  
  
Coulda woulda shoulda  
But I didn't do that  
You gotta give it a shot  
Dare to believe  
And don't say you  
Coulda woulda shoulda  
But I didn't do that  
Just throw in everything you've got  
'Cause in love there's no holding back  
  
It's meant to be  
Don't think about it  
Let love run free  
Cause you're on your way  
Follow your heart when it's calling on you  
Don't you say  
  
Coulda woulda shoulda  
Oh, but I didn't do that  
You gotta give it a shot  
Dare to believe  
And don't say you  
Coulda woulda shoulda  
But I didn't do that  
Just throw in everything you've got  
'Cause in love there's no holding back  
_  
Grissom's hand trembled a bit as it touched the door in front of him. _Dare to believe_. He'd never allowed himself to believe in anyone – himself included. He trusted no one, and that meant he never got hurt. At least, he never allowed himself to believe he trusted anyone. He had trusted Sara when he needed someone – now it was just a matter of letting her know that that trust was real. He knew if he didn't let her know how he really felt, he would regret it for the rest of his life. He'd be left thinking of what he could have, or would have done. What he _should_ have done.  
"Celine Dion," he mused quietly to himself. "That's not someone I ever thought I'd listen to."  
  
Taking a breath, he pushed through the door. Sara looked up from where she sat on the couch, startled. The look of relief on her face told him how worried she'd been.  
"Sara," he started to say, but she stood, shaking her head. She had caught the look in his eyes – one of hope, uncertainty, and something she couldn't quite put her finger on, but that told her he was through running.  
  
"You don't have to say anything, Grissom," she said softly. "I know. Everything's going to be fine."  
"All right," he replied as she wrapped a blanket around his shivering form. "I believe you."  
Sara smiled at him, eyes dancing with elation. "It's about time," she whispered teasingly. "Do you know how long it's taken me to get your attention?"  
Grissom stared at her for a moment, and then she wrapped her arms around him and he let himself be pulled closer.  
"It didn't take you long at all to get my attention," he mumbled softly to her, his voice muffled because his face was hidden against her neck. "It just took me some time to convince myself you were for real."  
Sara laughed, and pulled the blanket around herself as well so they were both wrapped in a tight cocoon. "I love you, Gris," she whispered.  
For a moment he was silent, and then he gently pulled away from her, and turned her face so he could see her. "I love you too, Sara," he replied quietly as he kissed her, and the look in her eyes told him he had made the right decision in trusting her. She would be there for him, no matter what.

It was the first time since he was seven years old that he had trusted and loved someone so completely, and it was a good feeling; a great feeling.  
  
The End


End file.
